


Botany Lessons

by bottlecapmermaid



Category: Morgan (2016)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, everything is going to be fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 07:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7967638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottlecapmermaid/pseuds/bottlecapmermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amy and Morgan go outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Botany Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> look guys I just want everything to be okay for this little science nugget

Her name is the first one Morgan says, ever. Out of all the names Morgan has heard in her short, clinical life, Amy’s is the first she repeats. Morgan has spoken before, of course; she produced monosyllables with clear intent to communicate within weeks of what constituted her birth. But Amy is the first one she looks at and names. And that’s when Amy decides she doesn’t hate absolutely everyone she’s ever met. 

“Yeah, baby,” she says. “That’s me.” Morgan can walk now, but when she looks up at Amy from the floor and holds round baby hands out, Amy has no choice. She picks Morgan up and settles her on a hip. “Do you wanna go outside?”

“Yes!” Morgan loves it outside, loves the bugs and the plants and the light. “Outside, Amy.”

“Okay, we’re going. It’s bright out there, kiddo,” Amy warns her, pulling up the hood of her soft sweater. “Don’t want you to get sunburned.” 

“Sunburned,” Morgan repeats in the way that means she doesn’t understand a new concept but doesn’t know how to ask for an explanation.

“Humans are very delicate, and sometimes if we spend too much time in the sun its radiation can burn us. Turn our skin red? But then we get better. I don’t want that to happen to you, so we’re keeping you all wrapped up, okay?” Amy shoves the door open and squints in the light.

“Okay.” As soon as they’re down the steps, Morgan wiggles and wiggles to be put down. Her tiny sneakers have barely hit the ground before she’s off toddling after a dragonfly. Amy follows, watching to make sure Morgan doesn’t trip. She hasn’t tripped in a couple days though, not since the first couple times she took a shot at walking. 

“Have you been practicing? Walking around in your room?”

“Yes.” Morgan grabs at her hand. The grip is sure and slightly cold, but running about in the sun warms Morgan’s fingers. A butterfly passes and Morgan goggles at it, huge eyes going wide with wonder.

“Yeah, the butterflies are pretty.” Does Morgan think all days are like this? Bright, clear blue skies, thick green grass, butterflies pausing to rest on the Queen Anne’s Lace? She has only been outside when it’s nice, nobody wants to play with a child out in the rain and cold, although Morgan doesn’t seem to pay much attention to those things. Amy tries to imagine a world as small as Morgan’s, one of gray walls and glass juxtaposed with searingly vivid summers. Summer is the only season Morgan has ever seen. She must be aware of rain, though, with the skylight over her room.

“The butterfly is like Amy.”

“What?” Amy stares down at Morgan, who is still clutching her hand. She sits down on the ground and pulls Morgan into her lap. “What did you say, baby?”

“Butterfly,” Morgan says, reaching for a handful of Amy’s hair. “Like Amy.”

She laughs when she understands. “You’re right, my hair is like the butterfly. It’s the same color. The butterfly is orange, but for people when their hair is like mine it’s called red.”

Morgan pats the grass. “Green.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of green here. Are you thinking about green because it’s the opposite of red?”

Morgan’s gaze is quizzical. They haven’t really talked about the color wheel or color theory, but Amy feels it’s important to know. 

“Want to go look at the flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Then you need to get off my lap, kiddo.”

Reluctantly, Morgan extricates herself from Amy’s lap and immediately latches back onto her hand. “Yellow,” Morgan announces, pointing.

“Yup, that’s a buttercup.” Amy tugs the stem closer, not plucking the flower. “Here, you can touch it, it’s nice. Smooth.” 

Morgan reaches out with her unoccupied hand and traces the edges of the petals, then pokes at the center. Her fingers are bright with pollen when her hand returns to her side. 

“That’s a daisy, and that’s a black-eyed Susan,” Amy says, pulling each flower toward Morgan, who examines them all with a child’s seriousness and focus. She seems to be committing each stem and petal to memory. Her memory might be perfect, Amy thinks. It wouldn’t be surprising if she had a photographic memory. “This is Queen Anne’s Lace. It’s a kind of carrot.”

Faster than Amy could have expected, Morgan’s hand swipes out and yanks at the stem of the Queen Anne’s Lace. She tugs and it snaps off, ragged bits hanging out of the end of her chubby fist. She pulls other flowers, daisies and buttercups and black-eyed Susans and even long grass. The result is a bouquet nearly too large for her little hand to hold, and she peers around and over it, petals and leaves tickling her nose. 

“I think it’s time to go inside, Morgan,” Amy says. They’ve been out for a couple hours, which is about Morgan’s limit before she starts getting tired and cranky. 

“Okay.” Morgan does not let go of the flowers. She carries them into her room, and doesn’t want to let them go when Amy tries to take them.

“I’m going to put them in some water so they can stay alive,” she explains. “That way you can have them here for a while, even when you can’t go outside.”

“I like outside,” Morgan says, watching Amy arrange the flowers in a paper coffee cup. Honey-yellow light dribbles in through the skylight, just catching Morgan’s hand. She does not move it. 

“Yeah? I bet outside likes you too.”

“Can we go outside tomorrow?” She’s already demonstrating concepts of time. Smart kid. Amy is very impressed, and more than a little proud. It’s like having a kid, or a little sibling, or something in between. A little kid who she can feel surpassing her every day, not that she minds. The project is doing exactly what it was supposed to, and more. 

“We’ll see. If it’s nice, I don’t see why not.” How long would it take to teach Morgan to swim? There’s no pool or anything on the property, but she knows a lake not too far away. It might be a good place for a field trip, maybe take everyone on a picnic. That would be nice. 

She tucks a daisy behind Morgan’s ear before heading out to collect dinner. Morgan is asleep behind her before the door closes.


End file.
